Page 2 of Marked

“As I said, Charlie is not an easy one to track, let alone catch. But there’s one thing we do know,” I go on, deciding to ignore her tense state for now. “On Saturday nights, he’s often seen at an underground bar downtown. It’s nothing special, quite a shithole actually, if you ask me. But he goes there almost every weekend to have drinks with a group of people. From what we can gather, it seems like they all work in the same field. Their conversations are very IT-centric.”

Riley scoffs at that last sentence, rolling her eyes at me when she replies drily, “IT-centric, huh? What a keen observation.”

“Spare me the attitude and just fucking listen,” I snap at her. I’m in no mood to argue, but my patience with her is growing weak.

She glares at me but is smart enough to swallow whatever sassy comeback may be dancing on her tongue.

“So, you want me to join that group?” she asks. “And flirt with him…”

I nod. “Essentially, yes.”

Riley sighs, looking especially irritated now.

“And how exactly do you want me to do that? Don’t you think it might be a bit suspicious if I just squeeze myself into an established group of friends? A stranger coming out of nowhere and throwing herself at the one guy who is working for a crime syndicate?”

Riley shakes her head, obviously vexed.

“It’s not a group of friends,” I insist, annoyance obvious in my voice. “There are some characters who seem to show up every week, but the majority of the group consists of people who only show up sporadically, every few weeks, and some have only appeared once. And every week, there’s at least one new person introducing themselves into the group.”

“Sounds like a Meetup group, then.”

I cast her a quizzical look. A whimsical glint appears in her eyes.

“Don’t tell me that you’ve never heard of a Meetup group?” she prods, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Please, enlighten me,” I respond sarcastically.

“It’s an online community that organizes meet-ups—hence the name—for people with similar interests. They’re quite popular among ‘IT nerds’, as you like to call us.”

She concludes her explanation with a condescending look.

“Okay, what does that mean for us?”

Riley pauses for a moment, chewing on her lower lip as if to fight the words she’s about to speak.

“It would make things easier, I guess,” she says eventually. “If it is, in fact, a Meetup group.”

“And how do we make sure of that?”

An exasperated sigh leaves her lips and she rolls her eyes at me—each an offense that begs for punishment.

A punishment she will receive. Later.

“Let me show you,” she suggests then, pulling the laptop closer to herself before she starts typing furiously.

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